


A Moment's Respite

by Sharadethia



Series: Towards the Encroaching Darkness [3]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Solo, Substance Abuse, she's also pretty masochistic what a shock, yeah this is masturbation fic whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-13 02:51:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16884270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharadethia/pseuds/Sharadethia
Summary: Every moment, the world falls closer to falling apart. Every quiet second which happens is rare, a gift, and Arison takes advantage of what little time to herself she has.





	A Moment's Respite

Arison knew her body well. With only a handful of sexual encounters in her past, she had had to become quite familiar with the best and most efficient ways to tease her own body, either to release tension, agitation, or simply because she was bored, though the latter had not been the case for years. She liked a hint of pain in anything that she did, which she attributed to her life in the military, but it actually stemmed from the events during and immediately after Mindoir, though she would never admit that, much less bother to determine that in the first place. This meant that before she even undressed, she usually found herself pinching her nipples through her clothing and manhandling her body, mimicking the movements of some nameless figure from Mindoir whom she did not even actually remember. 

Once she felt flushed and her breathing came in pants and heat began to pool in her stomach, usually after only a few moments, she would take her clothes off, fold them, and leave them somewhere near her bed, a habit which she had yet to break from bootcamp. Even when things had gotten physical between Arison and a partner, she always paused to remove her clothes and make sure that they were folded to be crease-free before continuing an encounter. With her shirt and pants removed and carefully stored away, Arison took less care of her underthings, usually tossing her sports bra, the only type of bra she ever wore if she could help it, and her boxer-style underwear, also the only type she wore if she could help it, to the floor with remarkable carelessness considering her treatment of her uniform or casual-wear. 

Arison preferred to be sitting when she masturbated, and this too came from old habit. What little time she normally had to herself was nowhere near a bed, and thus the best position she could normally find for herself was reclining in some uncomfortable chair. It beat masturbating kneeling, something else she had found herself doing when pressed for time alone in private showers. Arison had heard of people able to orgasm standing, but she had never managed. By the time she always got close enough, her body would protest about something or another, either a cramp or twinge or lack of blood flow, and that was when she found herself resorting to kneeling to finish herself off. 

With the privacy of her own quarters as an exception to her lifelong inability to get time to herself, Arison could not bring herself to masturbate on her bed very often. It felt too restricting in some way, laying prone, with sheets that would have to be cleaned and blankets that would get in the way. 

This was why Arison was now seated at her desk, having just made sure her quarters were locked for the time being, one foot propped up on the desk, her knee bent. One hand reached up to her nipples, pulling at them and twisting them, the pain making her teeth clench together. The other began to pull at her clit, the sensation instantly too much. The overwhelming sensations were one of the few ways she could find release, and every motion was deliberate. At some point she had calculated how much time on average she had between urgent messages on her omnitool to be no more than seven minutes. This meant that she either came in the amount of time allotted, or she was forced to give up and return to the demands of running a ship in the middle of a war, her body still aching for release and distracting her for a while afterward. 

So she didn’t waste even a second. The moment she was wet enough from the pressure and pain and pleasure, she dropped the hand from her breasts and pressed two fingers into herself, which was always too much to start with to be comfortable, but that didn’t matter when she had only four more minutes to bring herself to orgasm. Her fingers flicking at her clit rapidly would bring her close to the edge, but it always helped if she had pressure inside of her. At some point she had considered buying some toy to help with the process, but she had considered it frivolous and a waste of money, so this left Arison using her own hands to chase release. Besides, she could never justify spending if it did not promise to immediately improve her likelihood of winning a firefight.

The moment her body adjusted to two fingers, Arison added a third, once again creating too much pressure too fast, but she was usually wet enough at this point that she didn’t do any damage. Recently however, Arison had not loosened up as fast as she normally did, and she was definitely drier. If she had wanted to consider her problems, she would have had to attribute it to her stim abuse altering her sex drive, but the only time she ever had was for other people’s problems, so she continued to roughly finger herself with her thoughts only barely focused on her own body. 

Three minutes. 

Arison began to hold her breath and tensed her leg muscles, which usually accelerated her orgasms, but with half of her mind on her body and the other on the ever-shorting time she had, she found that she was even less aroused than usual. That meant that Arison had to resort to more desperate tactics.

She uncomfortably added a fourth finger, savoring the burning, and threw her head back in order to limit the bloodflow downward. Both of her arms were starting to hurt, but she had not had time to masturbating in a week let alone find time to coax Garrus to her quarters for a fuck. And that was the thought that she clung to until she came, jamming her fingers in and out of her, trying to ignore how cold they felt and how much her muscles were cramping.

The last time she and Garrus had had a moment to themselves, both pent up and desperate, he had left marks which had lasted for days. He had hauled her up against her empty fish tank,  fucked her within an inch of her life, biting her and sinking his talons into her hips and waist. She also found that Garrus, with his very alien turian genitalia, did not fit in her easily, and that meant that her fingers now were simulating with relative accuracy how it felt to have him pounding into her. She had been bleeding from some small puncture wounds by the end of their last encounter, but the pain had felt so good. 

Arison had not begged, but she definitely repeatedly and breathlessly demanded that Garrus not stop, even once he had become concerned about the state of her skin. As soon he had seen how aroused she was, however, he had mostly stopped worrying and continued to fuck her into oblivion against the glass. 

Now she was close with her thoughts thoroughly locked on that event weeks before. God, when he had bitten her shoulder, nowhere that could be seen when she wore her clothes, that had been one of her first rules, that had set off her first orgasm of that night. The sharp pain over her bones had been the breaking of the dam, and-

At the thought of how she had clenched around Garrus, moaning his name and writhing against the cold glass, she felt the beginning of her orgasm start.

The pleasure radiating from both her clit and where her fingers were pounding the inside of her body racked through her body with violence and as the waves of pleasure tore through her, Arison slowed her violent pace. 

She did not have time enjoy the moment as her body rocked with the aftershock or to bask in the afterglow, since her omnitool pinged with a new message. 

Arison stood up too quickly, blood rushing to her head almost painfully. The clock was reset, and she didn’t stop, even if she couldn’t quite see, so she walked to her shower on muscle memory and washed her hands. By the time her hands were clean, her vision had come back. Only then did she walk back to her desk and open the terminal there. She was needed in engineering. 

_ At least this time I came _ , Arison thought to herself as she pulled back on her clothes and knotted her hair back into the austere bun she always wore. 

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for the pwp (not sorry). not the first smut I've written, but def the first smut I've put out there. It's not really... sexy? but that's not what I was going for, honestly. Also! This is an older fic (maybe a year old, so it's not my best writing) sorry.


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